This is what I tend to wake up to every morning.. 🐈⬛ he knows when the alarm usually rings so he starts a bit before, dare I say he might be the best masseur in the country 🙃
9. Debridement
(noun)
the surgical removal of lacerated, devitalized, or contaminated tissue
Once the credits started to play, Paul only delayed his trip to the gym long enough to get changed. He needed to finish getting his emotions out before the others went on to standby and had their chance to watch it; if he was going to help them decompress, he needed to blow off steam first, otherwise they’d set each other off like so many blocks of C4. The emotional catharsis of it would have been so very visceral and so very, very satisfying, but it would not have helped the situation. They needed to be calm and controlled, not infuriated and ready to make rash decisions.
With a certain clinical detachment, Scarlet fished his wraps out of his locker in the changing room, wound and wove them over knuckles and between fingers, then strode into the officer’s gym. He’d heard the dull thudding of fists into canvas while he was getting the wraps on, now he could see the source: Colonel White, sweat making dark triangles on his tee-shirt as he pounded the punching bag.
‘He was down here before it even finished…’ Without a word, Scarlet steadied the bag for White, who acknowledged him with a short nod before returning to pounding the bag.
It didn’t take an oracle to divine why the Old Man was here. As a man who prided himself on discerning fact from fiction, of seeing through lies and illusions, to find out how thoroughly he’d been tricked would have been a bitter pill to swallow. ‘And it very nearly worked…’ was the thought that Paul allowed himself. If it hadn’t been for Cobalt getting shot and Five boarding the base to get to his brother, kicking off the chain of events that led to them digging deeper, UnNamed would have been able to take the election in a clean sweep and plant his flag on Mars only a few short years later, his empire built on the backs of literal slaves.
‘And that man would have had access to so many of our secrets... would the knowledge of the War have stopped him? Or would it have spurred him on to announce himself as the one to officially make first contact with intelligent alien life? And what would he have done with me?’ Paul shivered at the thought. ‘All going well, we’ll never get to find out.’
The pounding on the bag stopped. White paused long to suck down air and water in roughly equal quantities and wipe the sweat off his face and neck with a towel, then he was steadying the bag and bracing himself. “Your turn, Captain.”
Scarlet nodded, rolled his shoulders, and unleashed his fury on the canvas.
T H U N D E R F A L L
"Hello, darling."
Startled, Gordon bounced out of the pew and to his feet. "Penny!" His heart settled down a little, Parker was behind the hover chair. "Uh.. how did you find me?" The interfaith chapel in the early part of the morning would have been the last place for someone to look for him. Well, maybe not Salt or Virgil, but everyone else, yeah. Waking to find Scott and Kayo gone and knowing what his brother would be doing, he’d left the iso pod when the nurses came to check on John and Virgil, watched the broadcast and then came straight here to clear his head.
"I asked Cloudbase, and he most kindly told me." She held out one hand to him and patted Parker's on the handle with the other. "I'll be fine here, Parker. You should check on Lil, I'm sure she can use some company."
"h'If you're sure, M'Lady?" It wasn't that Parker didn't trust Gordon, just that M'Lady was - fragile right now.
"Captain Xanthic will take excellent care of me."
Gordon took her hand and kissed the knuckles gently. "I'll protect her as much as she'll let me." Which was pretty much the best statement Gordon could make. It was the one that Parker did himself.
"As you say, M'Lady." He gave Gordon a look and got a nod back. "Hi’ll will be back in an 'our m'lady, Doctor Burgundy wan's 'o check your dressin."
"I promise not to leave this room for any other reason than the base falling out of the sky."
Gordon took over pushing the chair and parked it next to the pew he'd been sitting on. He sat back down and took Penny's hand, running his thumb over her first two knuckles in slow circles.
She reached over and ran her free hand through his hair. "Do you want to talk, darling?"
Gordon leaned into the affection like a giant cat. “...I don’t know... it’s... like... I know about what happened, but now I know about what happened.” He stared out the windows for a long time, silent and still.
Penelope let him think. She too had a lot to ponder. While she’d come late into the game and young as she was at the time, the thought that she or her father should have seen something, that they should have detected something... it was a thought that sat heavily on her soul, hard and sharp and jagged like so much broken glass.
“...Scott’s getting, like, the biggest Squid hug I can make happen,” Gordon said at last. “He’s shielded me and Al from more than I realised.”
“Where is he?” Penelope asked, her fingers sifting through his hair again. “I daresay that this is not a time for him to be alone with his thoughts for too long.”
“He and Kayo slipped out of Medical while the rest of us were asleep. If he’s not in his room, he’ll be in the hiding spot on the Promenade.”
She pursed her lips. "I'd say we should go seek him out, but I promised Parker I'd stay here."
"And I promised to keep you safe." Gordon took a slow breath.
She ran her fingers through his hair again. "Cloud?"
Yes, Lady Penelope?
"Can you tell me where Captain Cobalt is, please?"
I am very sorry, Lady Penelope, but I cannot. He has requested privacy.
"I see." She tilted her head for a moment. "Can you tell us if he is alone? Because if he is, that is not healthy for him right now."
Silence stretched on for over a minute while Cloud mulled over the question. I can tell you that Captain Cobalt is not alone. He still requests privacy.
"Thank you, Cloud. That was most kind of you." She smiled at the small camera in the corner above the window.
You are welcome, Lady Penelope.
Penny laced her fingers with Gordon’s. “I understand if you are not quite ready to talk in detail yet, but when you are, I am here.”
Gordon gave her hand a little squeeze and offered her a weak, but genuine smile. “Same here, gorgeous, same here.” With that he leaned his head against her shoulder and they sat together until Parker came to fetch Penelope back.
T H U N D E R F A L L
Triage, Virgil decided, was a word he didn’t like very much right now.
He'd woken up just as the nurses arrived and Gordon left, and while he wasn't happy about why Gordon was leaving, he understood.
The problem was that he also wanted to see the broadcast, if only to be able to help Scott to carry his burden a little better, but with the injuries he had and the strain his body was under, it had been explained to him that ‘getting healthy’ was a bigger priority than ‘knowing’, that he had to triage himself above watching the expose, and that he had very hard limits right now. ‘The doc’s right,’ was his sour conclusion. ‘I won’t rest, much less sleep if I watch it, and I need that right now. I’ll crash if I don’t get enough rest and I can’t afford a crash right now.’
A glance at Alan, curled up between him and a recently awakened John, reassured him that the youngest was still drowsing, then Virgil turned his attention back to what he was working on in lieu of watching the broadcast. The notebook in front of him was covered in angry shapes, dark and sharp lines as he tried to get his emotions out of his head.
He was in the middle of laying down a band of brick red when the intercom buzzed, getting both his and John’s attention and a muffled snort out of Alan.
“Hello, it’s Doctor Orchid, may I come in?”
Virgil looked over at John, who nodded.
"Sure, Doctor." Part of him wanted to make himself more presentable. This was the first time he'd be meeting her in person. But she'd seen him at his absolute lowest, medical scrubs wouldn't bother her.
The door slid open to reveal an older woman of medium height, with grey hair streaked with white and kind blue eyes. She dressed like no one else they'd seen on Cloudbase so far; a brilliant tunic style shirt in colours that Gordon would have loved, over a long black skirt.
She turned the recliner around more to face him and made herself comfortable in it. "I'm sorry it's under these circumstances, but I'm very glad to see you in person, Two."
Virgil set his crayon aside. "Me too."
Her smile was soft. "So, who are your friends?"
"Oh. Uh - Doctor Orchid, this is Five." He gestured at John, "and this is our brother Three." Virgil looked down fondly at the form curled up next to him.
"I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance Five. I've heard a great deal about you."
John's face stilled. "Oh?" How such a simple syllable could have that much weight was beyond Virgil's knowledge.
"You stormed and boarded Cloudbase, you sent Security and Technology into tizzies, and you made the Colonel swear, and in my presence, no less." Her smile was fond. "I have heard many things about you."
"Oh." The embarrassment that showed on John's face also filled the word.
She nodded to the notebook. “I’m glad to see you’re still journaling, is it helping?”
“It is,” Virgil nodded, fidgeting with his crayon.
“Good.” Orchid resettled herself in the chair, rearranging the folds of her skirt. “We don’t need to discuss anything big right now, I’ll come back later so we can talk in private,” she started, “but I wanted to visit, I know what it’s like to be shut away when everything is happening just out there and you desperately want to be on the front lines where you belong.” In answer to John’s querying look, Orchid pointed at her right eye. “Prosthetic. Once upon a time I was a WAAF med-evac helicopter pilot until some career-ending shrapnel. There was too much damage to the nerve for a cybernetic one.”
“I’m sorry,” John told her, and he was. Losing a job that you loved... well, there were reasons why he and Virgil had stuck it out.
“Thank you,” Orchid nodded to him, then she smiled, a wicked twinkle in her eye. “So, how many languages can you swear in, Five? I’m always looking for new ways to get my point across with the captains.” Her smile turned conspiratorial. “I suspect that half the time they just like the shock value of hearing a grandmother-type like me swear about their problems, so I like to surprise them with something new every now and again.”
Virgil and John exchanged a look, then a slight smile tugged at John’s mouth. “How familiar are you with Finnish and Hungarian?” he asked.
T H U N D E R F A L L
It felt like he hadn’t seen the inside of his quarters in days. It hadn’t been, but thanks to how the Room of Sleep mucked with his internal clock, it sure felt like it.
Blue dragged himself inside, shucked off his uniform and sank onto his couch with a weary groan. The RoS was good, but it wasn’t a proper rest, not by a long shot. A few minutes of flopping, then he grabbed his personal phone off the coffee table to check for any messages and see if his broker had been able to scoop up any more TI shares, then he’d crash out for two hours before going back onto standby.
Well, that had been his intention, but on the list of waiting messages was one that had him freezing.
It was from his father.
Adam steeled himself and opened it.
'Adam, please call me as soon as you get this.’
That was it, ten simple words, nine if you didn't count his name. It could mean anything, but since it was after the expose, he had a decent idea what this might be about. Dreading it wouldn't get it over any faster.
The call connected on the first ring, "Adam?""Hi Dad." Adam kept his voice as bland as possible. "Everyone okay?" Which he really hoped wasn't the reason for his father calling.
"What? Oh, no, everyone is fine." There was silence, then, "This is what you were talking about when you visited."
There was no need to explain what 'this' was. "Yes, sir."
"That damn slimy bastard!"
Adam blinked, his father didn't swear. "Dad?"
"All that is true, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir, it is."
There was a sharp intake of breath. "This isn't insider trading, and I'm sorry I accused you of that."
Adam blinked, his father never apologised.
"I'm going to buy every damn share I can and force that bottom feeder out. Again, I'm sorry."
The line went dead and Adam was left looking at his phone, stunned. He'd never seen this side of his father before. Ever.
He would have been lying if he said that it didn't give him a spark of hope: for the first time in a very long time, he and his father were on the same side.
T H U N D E R F A L L
Curled up on the bed in the VIP quarters allocated to Kayo, Scott lay with his head on her lap, one of her hands stroking his brow and the other on his shoulder, and found that he quite simply didn’t have any tears left to cry.
Secrets and shame that he’d carried for literal decades were now laid out for the consumption by the viewing public, to be taken apart and analysed by pundits, talking heads, panels, armchair psychologists and chat show hosts. It’d be the subject of blogs, vlogs, podcasts, re-runs, tabloids, documentaries and news headlines. Journalists would be shoving their microphones before anyone they could find with a possible link to him, and of course there’d be the vultures, people happy to leap in and make a claim on camera for a quick buck and a few minutes of fame.
His history was out in the open now, and there was more to come.
‘I don’t know what I’d be doing if I didn’t have Kayo right now,’ was his thought. Around his brothers he wouldn’t have been able to cry. And yes, while he’d had a proverbial smack upside the head about being the ‘lone guard’ when the Mercy Protocol had been activated in Ireland, this... this was different. This was all the things he’d been protecting his brothers from since they were kids, and he couldn’t let them see him like this, not yet. They still needed him to be strong, unshaken, the anchor for their world now tossed upside down and inside out. What had happened in the physio bathroom with Alan had only reinforced that.
But it was safe to fall apart here, in front of her.
He didn’t need to put that mask up for Kayo. He could show her all his cracks, his flaws and frailties, and he could safely lean on her for the strength he just didn’t have right now.
Scott reached out and found her knee, tapping out ‘Thank you’ and ‘I love you’, before starting to sit up. There was work to do, family to check on, and he’d been here for plenty long enough.
The gentle hand on his shoulder became iron, pressing him back into place. “Oh no you don’t,” Kayo informed him, brooking absolutely no opposition. “You’re off duty. You aren’t going anywhere just yet.”
Scott sank back down, warmed by the ferocity in her voice and the message it sent: He was safe. He was loved. He was cared for. He was protected. ‘I needed that reminder.’
Well wrung out by everything that had happened, Scott let himself doze off, knowing his beloved was watching over him.
T H U N D E R F A L L
Standing in his office, the muted credits still rolling, Lord Hugh Creighton-Ward impatiently waited for his phone call to connect.
“Father?”
"Penelope, please tell me that some of that - report - was exaggerated." Lord Hugh ran a hand through his hair, not caring that he was ruining his valet Dorian's handiwork on his 'lion's mane', as the papers liked to call it. He had no idea what the time was in the safe bolt hole she was in, but he had to have the truth of the matter as quickly as possible to inform his next moves.
There was a soft sigh from the speaker. "I wish I could Father, but I rather suspect that some parts were understated."
"Damnation." Which was the strongest language he would use, then he shook himself. "First things first; is Scott safe?"
"He is as safe as he can possibly be."
"I should hope so, if he's under Spectrum's aegis." Hugh started to pace around his desk, confident that the microphone would pick up his voice. "My broker has called me twice to make sure that I still want to buy any loose Tracy Industries stock." He chuckled, "Rachel is sure I've lost my mind."
"Are you having doubts, Father?"
"Absolutely not!" Hugh turned to glare at his desk. "I was certain that things couldn't have been as bad as you made them out to be, but - " he shook his head. "I should have known better than to think that you would exaggerate anything, my dear."
"I rather wish I had." There was a very delicate sniff. "Father, how did we miss this?"
Hugh sighed, "It's not that we missed it, my darling. It's that our vision was clouded by charm, cunning, and slippery words from someone we thought we could trust." He returned to his desk and sat down heavily, worn by the things he'd overlooked. "How is your young man?"
"He too is safe. Spectrum has him and the others."
"Thank goodness for that!" Hugh looked at the messages flashing on the discreet screen on the side of his desktop. "Penelope, my dear, I have to go. I love you and stay safe."
"I will do my best. I love you too, stay safe."
Hugh made sure that the call ended before he let the snarl cross his lips. "There will be ice skating in Hell before I speak to you again Jeff Tracy!" A decisive jab of his finger, and he deleted the waiting messages. Another button press connected him to his valet. “Dorian, have my bags packed for a standard business trip, three days. Tell Katerina I need the first flight to Boston that she can find, a car reserved there, an air taxi waiting to take me from Boston to New York at a moment’s notice, and a car and a hotel room there as well.”
“Yes sir.” Dorian sounded utterly nonplussed by the sudden change of plans. “There is a flight in four hours and I will have a car meet you at the airport.”
“Perfect.” Lord Hugh checked on his information - and specifically who else was buying shares - confirmed his suspicions, then swept up his phone and tablet, plans clicking into place.
He had recruiting to do.
T H U N D E R F A L L
In her room at the Plaza in New York, Ruth ‘Sally’ Tracy checked the caller ID on her phone, saw it was yet another person from Kansas and ignored it. She didn’t have the time or the energy to spend on talking to yet another gossip who wanted to know if it was true and fish for more under the guise of false sympathy or a veneer of care and compassion.
She hadn’t watched the expose. She couldn’t, not yet, not with all the work that she had to do on behalf of the children that she’d failed. If she did she’d fall apart, and she absolutely couldn’t lose momentum, not now. ‘But they’re safe now, they’re all safe and they’re well away from him,’ she reassured herself, soothing a small fraction of how heartsick she was over it all.
The phone buzzed again for attention. A check and she accepted this call. “Hello, Lord Creighton-Ward.”
“Good afternoon, Dr. Tracy,” he replied, warm and sincere as he continued on with “I have just spoken with Penny, she reports that she and her household are safe and well. Have you heard from the boys?”
“I have, they’re safe.”
“I am glad to hear that,” Hugh responded, then switched to a more professional tone. “Addressing the business at hand, I wish to confirm I shall be in New York by six thirty tomorrow evening. As we discussed earlier I’m going to Boston first to lure in that Svenson chap you mentioned. All going well, we three shall meet for dinner at eight at Harvest to firm up our strategy.”
“That sounds good to me. Thank you, Lord Hugh.”
“You are most welcome, Dr. Tracy,” Lord Creighton-Ward responded, then his tone gentled again. “Do take care of yourself, my dear.”
“I’ll try, Lord Hugh, I’ll try.”
“That is all I ask. Good bye.”
“Good bye.”
The line clicked off and Ruth turned back to her many piles of paper. This had to be absolutely air tight with zero wiggle room if this was going to work.
Even for apps where they don’t have a publicly stated minimum, their algorithms will bury you.
4 stars does not mean 4 stars. It means 1.4 stars.
If you give a person a 4 star rating, to these companies, you are not saying “I was mostly satisfied with the service, but there’s always room for improvement”—which is what 4 stars should mean—you are voting for them to be fired.
Genuinely, do not ever give people 4 star ratings on gig service apps for any reason that is not a safety issue where their continuation on the app could seriously hurt people.
If someone gives you “just OK” service where you don’t want to give them 5 stars, but you don’t actively hate their existence and hope they die, just don’t rate them.
If you're writing anything involving cons, scams, heists, or morally questionable characters who are very good at lying, here are some free resources I've been using for research. Saving you the "why is this in my search history" anxiety.
1. The FBI's Famous Cases & Criminals archive (fbi.gov/history/famous-cases) has detailed breakdowns of real fraud cases, Ponzi schemes, and confidence operations. The language they use is clinical and precise, which is perfect for getting the procedural details right.
2. The FTC Consumer Sentinel Network publishes annual reports on the most common fraud tactics in the US. Great for understanding how modern scams actually work and what makes people fall for them.
3. The Smithsonian's American Art Museum has a free digital collection of forgery case studies. If your character forges documents or art, this is gold.
4. Court Listener (courtlistener.com) is a free legal database where you can read actual court transcripts from fraud trials. Want to know how a real con artist talks under oath? This is where you find out.
5. The Internet Archive's collection of old newspaper crime sections. Search for "confidence man" or "swindle" in papers from the 1920s through 1960s and you'll find incredible real stories that would feel too dramatic for fiction.
Bonus: The Psychology of Fraud section on the Association for Psychological Science website has accessible articles about why people trust, how deception works cognitively, and what makes someone a convincing liar. Essential reading if you want your con artist characters to feel psychologically real.
Reblog to save for later. Your WIP will thank you.
Of all the Autobots that fled Cybertron and winded up on Earth, Blaster is one of the more unique characters. Not only does he carry around with him four to five companions. His love of music and broadcasting makes it hard for anyone to guess his mood and his moves on and off the battlefield. Enjoy!
Fury AU, The Darkest Timeline, Course Correction, Part Four
Ao3 link here
Petrov Lapin, the recently elected President of Bereznik, strode into his office and waved for his aide to shut and lock the door. His aide, a lanky young man with blond hair cut in a short buzz and wearing the well-earned uniform of an Army lieutenant, followed him in and quietly obeyed, ensuring the door was firmly closed in its frame. Petrov ignored him for the moment, taking his time as he toured the room as was his habit, inspecting all its fittings and features and ensuring that everything was clean, neat, and ready for him. Satisfied, he settled behind his big desk and surveyed his spoils - which included that young man standing at a stiff attention beside the door as he awaited his next instruction. Petrov smiled to himself, very well pleased with his work. ‘Mother always said I was unusually lucky and lucky in unusual ways, and this is just one more piece of proof.’
A boy from the farmlands to the south of the capital, the Presidential Palace truly was the last place anyone had expected a nobody like him to be. He'd joined the military after finishing high school, as was expected for someone like himself, without a name or any sort of standout skills, and a chance encounter had led him to being buddies with one of the lieutenants in logistics with a lucrative ‘side hustle’ - as the Americans called it - in converting ‘mislaid equipment’ into currency. He'd joined in, made a pretty penny and even prettier connections. It had all gone quite swimmingly until his alarm clock broke one night and he missed a delivery run that he later found out was swooped on by the Bereznik Internal Security Agency, leaving his buddy’s organisation with quite a void and one that he'd naturally stepped into - after all, it would be a shame to waste such a fine set up, they had quite the nice little racket going. At the same time he'd ingratiated himself with the investigating BISA team looking for anyone who'd slipped through their net, pointed them at competing associations, and used that as the foundation of his little empire. The years rolled by, he made friends, money, allies, and connections both at home and afar, and slowly climbed the ranks as his luck made opportunities all but fall into his lap and his cunning and creativity let him take full advantage of them.
‘That would have been all well and good and I'd have retired as a colonel, but then the airport mission happened.’ Petrov smiled at the memory of receiving the orders. ‘Ah, that truly was where I made my name.’
He hadn't even been on the short list for that mission, but measles had made its rounds through the barracks and the Bereznik External Security Agency had found itself short-handed. Because BESA and BISA so often worked so closely together, his name had been passed along as someone who did good work, kept his head, and could be trusted.
Petrov leaned back in his chair. His part in the plan had gone without a hitch until he got caught up in the chaos of the aftermath and missed the exfil. Finding himself in the area where the dead were being collected and laid out - an area with little attention on it as people and resources were rightfully focused on the living and the conflagrations on the runway - he seized a high-viz, medical mask, and a clipboard, and took advantage of his unusual luck by having a rummage for things the dead didn't need anymore but he could make good use of. He left the obvious items like wedding rings and watches, relatives would miss those, but earrings, necklaces, and cash from wallets all went into his pockets.
He'd just searched a woman's purse when the small, soot-blackened body of a child next to her suddenly moved and rasped “Mama…”
He'd of course scooped up the boy - because only a monster could ignore a child in distress - and he'd been plotting how to deliver said child to the medical tents and vanish, but then he'd asked the boy his name and fate had once again smiled on him, broad and beaming.
Alan Tracy.
He had Alan Tracy, son of Jeff Tracy, alive and in his arms, a fact confirmed by a second look in the purse of the dead woman and the tickets emblazoned with ‘Lucille Tracy’ and ‘Alan Tracy.’
The possibilities were staggering and he'd immediately pounced on them.
He'd hurried away with the child, hailed a cab, and made calls. Some of his newly acquired funds went to the care and tending of the boy, more went into fake documents and travel plans, and within the week he was home and handing his mother and father a grandson to raise, while at the same time impressing BESA and his superiors with his resourcefulness in getting himself home without being detected by the West.
His mother and father had accepted the story that he gave them and raised the boy like he was their blood. Alan's intelligence had been apparent from a very young age and unlike others who would have beaten and broken the boy's spirit, he'd been careful to nurture it with the best education and a placement in Bereznik’s premier military academy to ensure he was fully indoctrinated. He could not waste a resource like this, and treating the boy kindly and giving him much to be grateful for would both endear the child to him and ensure that when Alan was placed back with the Tracys he would long for home and would do anything to return. He had bided his time, holding his ace close to his chest as he manoeuvred himself to greater and greater heights; which, and he found it the greatest of ironies, was immensely helped along by the Chaos Crew putting holes in Bereznik’s top ranks, holes that he could step into with a smile, his passage eased by the resources he had quietly salted away as he prepared to make the best use of his wonderful little treasure, his secret kept from the world - he could not let anyone else know who this boy was, they’d use them for their own ends, squandering an opportunity that he could use to greatest effect.
‘He will help me secure my position for life, and all my hard work and investments into him will pay off in spades once I insert him back into the Tracy fold.’ Petrov smiled at his aide. Getting up, he crossed the floor and held the younger man's face between both hands. “Tell me, who are you?” he asked.
“Lieutenant Alexei Lapin,” was the dutiful reply.
Petrov nodded, his smile fond and paternal. “Now, who were you?”
“Alan Bartlett Tracy.” Alexei recited the words like he was repeating a phrase drilled into him, words in a foreign language that held no particular or personal meaning to him.
“Yes, yes you were. And remember, Alexei, I saved you, I rescued you, I have raised you and protected you and given you the best that I could. I saved you, and now you are going to save Bereznik. Isn't that a good thing?” He let go of Alexie’s face and chucked his cheek like the loving parent he fancied himself to be. “Go make sure everything is in order, have my car brought around, tell Nataliya I'm working late and Taisia I'm on my way, then go home.” He smiled thinly. “We have a lot to do.”
“Yessir.” Alexei nodded, clicked to attention, and left the room, again making sure that the door firmly closed and locked behind him.
As soon as it was closed, Alan took in a deep breath, held it, and let it out. While Petrov clearly believed otherwise, that he had him under his thumb and firmly in his grip, Alan knew who he really was. He had always known that his name was Alan and his family was Tracy and his home was not here but half a world away
Petrov had pretended to be his father, but even as a child he’d known that the memories didn’t match - Dad was a big, booming voice, warm hugs and tickles, black hair, and cloud-coloured eyes, not a sharp voice and equally sharp green eyes, brown hair and wiry arms. There'd been brothers too, he remembered that, a collection of faces muddled by time, but not the love and warmth and play and enough joy to drown the sea. Mom was a slightly more solid memory: auburn hair in a ponytail, hazel eyes, cuddles and smiles, and music in her voice. Grandma was not the woman who called herself that - Yulia - even though she did treat him kindly, and Grandpa was absolutely not Vladimir (who usually ignored him), but their memories were just vague outlines and suggestions and little else.
As a child he remembered being so confused, trying to tell these adults his name was Alan, not Alexei, it hadn’t felt right at all, but they’d insisted and he'd been smart enough to not question it too much when he was little, not question it at all when he was older, and pretend to be all surprised when Petrov had revealed a highly edited version of ‘the truth’ when he turned sixteen.
Holding his true identity like a talisman against the lies they’d impressed on him and the indoctrination of the Bereznik education system, he'd played along with the narrative they’d crafted around him. At the same time and right under their collective noses he'd slowly pieced together the real story, breadcrumbs of information gathered up and hoarded away inside his skull where no one else could find them, and a litany of names and dates and events that he recited in his heart where only he could hear it.
Newspaper clippings from a locked cabinet and files carelessly left out on a desk confirmed who he was and explained how he’d gotten here, precious windows of unfettered internet access informed him about what had happened to his family, and evesdropping on meetings revealed what was to come.
Really he shouldn't have been able to worm his way into all of this - especially not into the internet access - but he was a fast learner, he was charming, he was cute, and he was kind to those like him: the ignored, the unseen, or those also being used for someone else's ends. It was amazing how much one could do with any combination of those things.
Piece by piece, he'd learned that he was thought to be dead, that his brothers had only barely survived, that his mother and grandparents hadn’t, that Petrov had helped kill them, that his father was fabulously wealthy, and that Petrov was going to use him to get his hands on that wealth.
Alan flicked a glance at the closed office door. There had been many days he’d wished the Chaos Crew had gotten to Petrov too and he’d fantasised about somehow making that happen, ‘but it’s actually better that they didn’t. I don’t have his connections, and right now I still need his protection.’ He'd longed to reach out to his real family, to communicate with them somehow, but while finding information was one thing, sending something was another. ‘Petrov has been smart enough to keep me from doing what he did: making friends outside Bereznik and alliances with people I can trust. But I'm going to find a way. And when the moment comes, I'm going to be ready. Petrov has his plans,’ he reached for the phone in the outer office to start making the calls, first to Petrov’s wife and second to his mistress, ‘but he's forgotten that other people have plans too. Yeah, right now he’s the king on the chessboard and I’m just an obedient little pawn, but a pawn can kill a king just as easily as anyone else.’
0o0o0
Half a world away, the war council was convening on Tracy Island.
“What do we know?” Colonel White asked as soon as he entered the lounge, Scarlet following one step to the left and two steps behind him.
“It’s President Petrov Lapin,” Jeff waved them both towards the ring of couches where everyone bar Silence were already waiting. “Nearest we can figure he must have been on the bombing team, somehow came across Alan, scooped him up and kept him.” He grimaced, looking sick. “The DNA tests must’ve been mixed up, we got someone else’s kid.”
“We’re going to find out who they really are and ensure they are returned to their loved ones.” Kyrano’s promise was softly murmured but the will behind the words was adamantine.
“The ransom note?” Scarlet asked.
“Silence?” Jeff looked to the hologram of Silence and the icon of his companion.
One moment, EOS answered for him. Their holograms blinked out and were replaced with an email with an attached photo.
“ ‘Greetings, Mr Tracy. I have someone precious to you. I believe you and I, as reasonable men, can come to a reasonable agreement on the value of young Alan Tracy and how he shall be returned to you.’ “ Colonel White read out loud. “Hn. Succinct, to the point, and very confident. Where did it come from?”
The Presidential Palace, EOS replied. We are working on hacking into their security systems now to gain live information on the president’s movements.
“Speaking of now, the timing of this.” Scarlet frowned. “Why now?”
“Now that he's top dog, Lapin can use Alan to get all the best toys from Tracy Industries and he doesn't have to share the credit or the glory.” That was Gordon, his tone light but his face all sharp angles and barely suppressed rage.
“Hn.” White rubbed his chin as he turned it all over, his eyes lingering on the photo of the young man. No photo analysis was required to identify him as a Tracy, and despite the toll life had already taken on Alan, he could still see traces of the little boy he’d carried around on his shoulders. Turning away from those fond memories, he looked to Jeff. “You have to know that Lapin won’t be satisfied with a single payment, be it in cash or in kind. He’s been holding on to Alan for years, waiting for the right moment. He’ll be wanting to extract as much as possible and in as many different ways as possible.”
“...I hadn’t gotten that far,” Jeff admitted, shame darkening his face.
“Lapin was counting on your emotions running riot,” White told him, “he planned for your distress and shock and he’ll want to use it to his full advantage.” A thin smile. “He did not plan for your allies or your alter egos. Captain Scarlet,” he turned to his officer, “I believe you have some leave that needs using up.”
Scarlet’s smile mirrored his commander’s. “Yessir. A few things from the Auckland office and I’ll be set. I can pick those up after I drop you off at Cloudbase.”
“Very good, Captain.” To the Tracys and Kyranos, White explained “Spectrum has no remit to operate in Bereznik, especially not against the elected president, no matter how rigged that election may have been. But I have limited control over what an officer does in their own time while away from Spectrum.”
“I like the way you think.” Jeff grinned.
“Wait, how are we gonna do this though?” Virgil jumped in. “Just bust in there with the Cruiser, say ‘Hi, we're your long lost family, remember us?’ and off we go?“
“No, not quite.” Scarlet shook his head. “You're also a hostage rescue team, remember? That’s who’s going to show up to get Alan, the Thunderbirds, a rescue team sent by his father. Get in there, get him out, and then reveal the truth later.”
Rubbing his chin, Jeff nodded slowly. “Yeah, this one has to be as International Rescue. He'll fear the Chaos Crew.”
“Mm, we did become Bereznik’s boogy man,” Scott agreed. “Silence, how long on the hack?”
Silence rocked one hand and EOS replied with a frustrated ‘currently undetermined’.
“Okay then.” Jeff nodded once. “Silence, EOS, keep working on it. Scarlet, while you do your drop off and pick up, Brains, Mechanic, you’ll get an iR suit together for him. I’ll reply to Lapin and see if I can get him to bite. Charles?”
“I’ll arrange for a transfer of the latest intelligence we have,” White promised. “I trust Lady Penelope will also be brought in on this?”
“Already done.”
“Very good, I’ll pass the information through her.”
“It’s settled then.” Jeff stood up, grey eyes hard. “Let’s bring our boy home.”
Chapter 8 Damage
Ao3 link here
Author's Note:
Tissue Warning!
This is the chapter that made the both of us cry.
...
Damage
(noun)
loss or harm resulting from injury to person, property, or reputation
Monday 10 May, 1400hrs New York
Tuesday 11 May, 0400hrs Cloudbase
Something was tickling his nose.
Feeling the kind of stiff particular to not moving much overnight, Scott cracked an eye open, finding blond hair filling his vision. ‘Alan…’ The youngest Tracy was half curled up, the little spoon to his big spoon, and still asleep. ‘Though that’s not going to be for long,’ Scott realised, feeling his stomach gurgle and other organs starting to pester for attention. If he was hungry and needing a bathroom, Alan absolutely would be too.
He propped himself up just enough to get a look at the room, he hadn’t really been paying much attention to their surroundings, and that was when he noticed Juniper, slumped in a chair and well out of it. ‘Ouch, he’s going to have such a crick in his neck when he wakes up.’
“..mm?”
The noise and movement drew his attention back to his brother as Alan stirred and blinked muzzily at their surroundings. “Scooter?”
“I’m here, I’m here,” Scott softly reassured him, giving him a quick hug. “We’re on Cloudbase, in Medical.”
“...I remember...” Alan’s voice was whisper quiet; he remembered everything else too.
A snuffle and a snort was Juniper, yawning and stretching in his seat - and yep, just as Scott had guessed, rubbing at his neck with a wince. “Oy, and this is why the nurses got that special visitor’s chair,” Juniper muttered, then scrubbed his eyes and blinked at them. “Ah, morning lads.” He checked his watch and scowled at it. “And yes it is morning. Just after four.” Juniper rubbed at his face again with a grumbled “Ochre has a point when it comes to this hour, very unpleasant.” Looking slightly more awake, he turned his attention back to them. “Well now, what do you lads need first?”
“Bathroom,” was Scott’s answer for them both, then he sniffed at his undershirt and made a face. It was high tech, moisture-wicking fabric with an antimicrobial coating, designed for people being active in it for long periods of time, but everything had its limits. “Clean clothes and food.” Scott slid out of the bed, stretched, and got his uniform back on. Yes, he was off duty, but wearing it was easier than carrying it. Alan eased off the bed, moving more like a man in his nineties and not one just starting his twenties. "Squirt?"
Alan stretched, winced as things popped, and gave himself a shake. "I'll live, SmotherOne." The nickname was gentled with a lopsided grin.
"Did you want to try to get back to your quarters, Cobalt?" Juniper asked as he copied the stretches and Alan's wince.
Scott shook his head. "I'm trying to stay on Fawn's good side, the physio room showers should be good enough. We can live in Medical greens for a couple of hours."
"Fair enough." Juniper paused. "Would you like some company?"
Scott smiled, "That's okay Pastor. I promise we won't collapse if you go to your quarters. I'm sure your back would prefer your own bed."
Juniper chuckled and opened the door to allow his charges to pass into the main area of Medical. It wasn't lost on Scott that they were now bracketing Alan between them; physical protection, even in a place of safety, was important. Scott was also not surprised to see Scarlet slumped in one visitor's chair with his feet up on the other, arms crossed over his chest and 'Cap pulled down so he could 'check for light leaks'.
“I’ll go ask the nurses for some scrubs for you two. Do you need anything from your room?” Juniper asked as he ushered them across to the physio room.
“No, not yet.” Scott told him. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye as Scarlet roused, peeking out at them from underneath his ‘Cap. Scott waved the senior officer off with a discreet gesture. Three was a crowd, four was too many and he didn’t want to chance overwhelming Alan right now.
They reached the physio room without incident, Scott finding towels while Juniper went off to ask for sets of scrubs for them and the mini toiletries kits that Medical kept for patients (and visitors that refused to leave). Both were handed over and Juniper carefully made his way out of Medical, very much in need of his own bed.
Scott came back to the physio room to find Alan standing in front of a shower cubicle, staring at his hands. Scott set the things down and moved to stand just inside arm's reach and within Alan's field of view. "Allie?" Scott hated the fact he was using the 'calm the terrified victim' voice on his littlest brother, but it was the only tool he had at the moment.
Alan looked up, eyes wide and pupils blown open. "I - I -"
"Oh, Allie." Scott moved forward to pull Alan into a hug, only to have Alan back up out of range.
"Don't touch me!” Alan choked out the words. “I'm - I'm not -"
"Don't." Scott spread his hands out wide. "You aren't stained, you aren't tainted." He took a half step forward. "You are wounded: heart, soul, and mind. But you aren't a bad person." He stepped closer. "You haven't lost my love, there is nothing you could do that could make that happen. I love you, no matter what." Scott was close enough to see the fine tremors moving Alan's form.
"But - " Alan swallowed, "- I killed people."
Scott nodded. "You did. I hate the fact that other people made the choices that put you into a place where you had to make that choice. But I don't hate you." Scott moved closer still. "Truthfully? While I hate that you had to kill people, to fight for your life and Lil's, I am so very glad you did."
Alan blinked at him. "What?"
Scott moved forward again, he was inside Alan's personal space but didn't touch him. "If you hadn't killed those men, they would have killed Lil and taken you. They might have even killed Penny, or Parker, or Kayo. They for certain would have killed Bertie. You stopped that, at a horrible cost, but you stopped it and I am so very glad you did, because that means you are here, alive, with me and the others. Alan, you're our everything."
Alan’s face twisted in an expression that stabbed deep into Scott’s heart.
With a broken half-sob, Alan collapsed against Scott, and just like yesterday, Scott gathered his littlest brother up in his arms and sank to the floor with him, holding him as tightly as he dared. “I’m here Allie, I love you, nothing’s changed that and absolutely nothing ever will, I promise,” Scott murmured the words again and again, stroking Alan’s head and ignoring his own tears that tracked down his face and dripped down his chin at his brother’s pain. ‘I can’t take this away from him, but I can help him through it,’ Scott reminded himself to try and divert his own feeling of utter uselessness. ‘I’m helping him, and that’s the next best thing.’
Then there was a hand on his shoulder.
Scott didn’t need to look to know it was Gordon, the next youngest folding himself in beside Alan and adding his arms around them both. Another brief touch on his other shoulder was Kayo, slipping in to join in on the group hug.
What he absolutely did not expect was the sound of IV pole wheels and John and Virgil appearing to carefully join the huddle on the floor. An eyebrow at John got ‘Scarlet got us’ tapped on his arm in Morse.
Finally Alan lifted his head, red eyed and his face wet. Past the point of words, a touch to his chin signed his ‘thank you’ to his family, then he leaned against Scott’s chest, trusting his brother’s strength to hold him up while he had none.
“You’ll be okay if we go back?” Virgil asked quietly. “Scarlet convinced Cloud to let us come out without tattling to the medics, but I don’t know how long we’ve got before we get caught.”
Alan nodded. Shower, he signed, join you after.
“I’ll get Virgil and John back to bed and find some food,” Kayo promised as she lithely got to her feet, then bent to help John up. “Gordon, you’ve got these two?” She nodded to Scott and Alan.
“F.A.B.”
John used the IV pole to steady himself and grumbled under his breath about gravity, while Kayo got Virgil to his feet. She then herded them back to the iso pod.
"Cloud?" John said as soon as he'd gotten back in bed.
Yes, Five?
"Thank you. You didn't have to do that, so thank you."
You are welcome Five. Will Three's operating system be stable again following this reset?
"I - I don't know Cloud. I need to find out what caused the crash in the first place." John turned to Kayo who was not looking at either of them as she tucked Virgil in. "Kayo, do you know what happened?"
She smoothed the blanket over Virgil's legs. "Yes, I do."
"Will you tell us?" Virgil asked in a soft voice.
Kayo straightened and stepped away before Virgil could grab her hand. "No." Her peridot gaze swept over them. "If Alan wants you to know, he'll tell you. If he doesn't, then you will hear no word from me about it." They both opened their mouths to argue the point and she held up a hand. "I said no. This is not open for discussion or argument." She turned. "I need to get some food." She keyed the door, only to find Scarlet on the other side, holding a tray with bowls of soup and cups of fruit.
"Ah… I thought this might be wanted?"
“It is, thank you.” Kayo flicked him a brief smile as she took the tray and placed it on a handy table.
But to her surprise he followed her inside. “If things happen the same way they did last time, this will also be necessary,” he was saying as he unlocked the wheels on John’s bed and shoved the bed and the attached ‘nurse over to meet up with Virgil’s. “I’ll be back with more pillows and blankets,” he said as he locked the wheels, and with that he was gone again.
"Last time?" Virgil asked.
John rubbed the back of his head with care for the line in his arm. "When I got shot, then had the seizure. Scarlet shoved the beds together so we could all touch."
"This would be the same time when Scott hurt himself?" Kayo's eyebrow arched into a curve.
"Uh - yeah it would."
"I am going to wrap that man in foam and packing tape, I swear." Kayo plunked a bowl of fruit in front of her brothers. "Eat. I'm going to see if I can locate some more food. I'm pretty sure Scoff hasn't eaten since yesterday."
The commissary has started to serve breakfast, Shadow. There is also a small kitchen in Medical, but that is where Captain Scarlet got those items.
"Thank you very much Cloud." Kayo sought out the small camera. "Thank you also for telling me that Three was having a system crash and needed his support interface reinforced."
I was happy to be of assistance, Shadow.
Kayo cocked her head. "Will there be any trouble if I'm moving around the base? The Colonel was most insistent that I have a guide the last time I was here."
"Has everyone else been here before me?" Virgil grumped.
"No. Just John and myself."
Visitors are required to have a guide. However, since I can keep observation of you at all times, I do not think the Colonel will mind you going to the commissary and back. Especially at this hour of the morning. Captain Scarlet has told me it is better to seek forgiveness than to ask permission.
“In some things, not all things, Cloud,” Scarlet said as he came back, pushing a recliner with wheels on it and a mound of bedding piled on the seat. “We’ll talk more about that one later.” He parked the recliner on Virgil’s side, but with enough room for someone to squeeze past.
S.I.G.
“Stay here, Miss Kayo, I’ll get more food for everyone,” Scarlet said as he glanced at the occupants of the room, tallying up their condition. “I heard the water stop so I imagine the other three will be here shortly.” He then squared his shoulders. “Kat’s broadcast is going to be showing at 0800 here. You won’t be able to watch it in Medical, Fawn’s already put it on the banned list, but it’ll be recorded and can be accessed later, when you’re released.”
John gave Scarlet a long look. “Are you going to watch it?”
“Yes,” was the frank answer, “I need to know what the battlefield looks like. I’ll be putting dents in the punching bags in the gym afterwards, I imagine the Colonel will be too.”
"You aren't the only one, Scarlet. You have to know, but we're going to remember." Kayo rolled her shoulders. "I'm going to see if Harmony's offer of full contact is still open."
Scarlet froze for a moment, then slowly turned to face Kayo. "Are you sure that's wise? Harmony can take me down sometimes."
"I took you down in New Haven. The only reason I let you get your knife out is because you were with Scott."
Before Scarlet could do more than open his mouth, the smell of institutional soap wafted in. Scott and Alan appeared in the open doorway, hair still damp from washing. Scott had his arm around their youngest brother and Alan's hands and arms were still red from what must have been a savage scrubbing. They were both dressed in the pale green scrubs of patients, and Gordon was keeping close to them.
"Scarlet, could you make sure that the Pastor made it back to his quarters?” Scott’s question was quiet.
"Of course." Recognising the subtext of ‘please go away’, the senior captain slipped out of the room.
"Well, this looks familiar." Gordon said as he made sure to close the door. "So sickies on the outside, good kids in the middle?"
There were some mild snorts of laughter at that. It took several minutes before everyone was settled. This time Alan was in the middle with Scott and Gordon bracketing him. John and Virgil were on the outside to keep their lines from being tangled. Kayo had taken the chair and moved so it was blocking the door just a little. She'd positioned herself for lunging out of it to put herself between her brothers and whatever might be threatening them. Scott raised his eyebrows at her and she shrugged.
There was a little more shuffling and settling in, the cups of fruit and soup that Scarlet brought in were picked over and slowly consumed, then Virgil stretched a little and indulged in a jaw-cracking yawn. That set off John, Kayo and Scott, and Gordon and Alan followed in short order.
EOS’ icon popped up on the projector, now moved to one of the wheeled work tables. I will monitor the immediate area, she announced, her lights flushing the pink of care.
As will I, Cloud’s deep bass rumbled. You are safe here, we will protect you.
“Thank you, to the both of you,” Scott murmured for them all, blinking sleepily. Alan was already halfway to the land of Nod, and he could see that the Sandman was winning the battle against the rest of them.
You are welcome, Cobalt, Cloud replied. A pause, then the ambient noises of the base were covered by the sound of waves breaking against a beach and the lights were dimmed to a faint glow.
“Good pick, Cloud,” Gordon yawned and resettled himself, recognising the track as one of his go-tos for when he couldn’t sleep.
One by one, the brothers all dropped off, bar Kayo, who curled up like a cat in the chair, a blanket over her shoulders as she settled in to watch over them all.
It was about half an hour later when Scarlet came back to check on things, a tray of sandwiches and meal bars in hand. He still had Alan’s folding knife in his pocket, reassembled after a meticulous cleaning and being run through an autoclave twice. ‘I don’t know if he’ll want this back, but I’ll make the offer when he’s ready.’ He cracked the door open and peeked in, pleased when he saw the tangle of sleeping forms and the one awake one who touched a finger to her lips for quiet.
A nod, he reached through the door just far enough to place the tray on a workstation, then he closed the door. “Well done, Cloud, well done.”
Thank you, Captain Scarlet. What is your objective now?
Scarlet checked his watch: 0643. “I’m going to relieve Blue while he gets his RoS nap, then I’m going to watch that broadcast.”
...understood. What actions should I take?
“Monitor, observe, keep tabs on the iR people, and be ready for everything and anything,” Paul told him as he headed towards the Officer’s Lounge. “Please don’t call anyone for me while I’m processing the information, not unless I ask. I’m going to need the space to decompress.”
S.I.G.
T H U N D E R F A L L
Val had gone home for this. Her staff and aide de camp, Lieutenant Janice Rand, had orders to not to disturb her for any reason. Not a call from the World President, not for an unnoticed NEO that promised another KT event, not for aliens landing, there was nothing dire enough to contact her while she watched this.
Gordon had said this was going to be bad, Cat 5 plus bad, so she'd set things accordingly: both phones turned off, computer and tablet powered down, drapes drawn, and all the windows and doors locked.
She settled into her chair, clad in sweats with an old bottle of Tim's favourite bourbon and a glass next to her. She despised bourbon, but she had the feeling that mixing this broadcast with something she enjoyed would be a bad idea. She took a deep breath and turned on the screen.
"Good evening and welcome to the Kat Cavanaugh Show."
The VIP suites on Cloudbase were pretty dang luxurious. Wayne had been expecting something like the rather spartan GDF guest quarters, not a soft bed, a downright obscene bathroom, coffee maker, and a view that no other place on Earth could match. Even the spare bed that had been brought in for him was several grades above what he'd expected. He and Dosela sharing a room hadn't raised any eyebrows. Not that it should have, Parker, Lil, and Bertie were sharing, Brains and MAX were in the third, and the fourth - well nobody had said who was in that one, which was just fine by Wayne. There was more going on than just this mess with Jeff.
He handed the coffee cup to Dosela and plopped down on the other chair. She took a sip and made a face. "You forgot the salt."
"You want salt in your coffee, you heathen, then you can make it," Wayne shot back. This had been going on between them as long as they'd been Thunderbirds, things had to be even worse than now before they stopped ragging on each other about coffee.
They sat in silence for several minutes before Wayne sighed and set his cup down. "We're going to watch it, aren't we." It really wasn't a question.
"We watch it now and know, or we watch it later after we've gone face first into a tide pool." She reached for the remote. "It's already started, maybe it won't be that bad?"
Wayne rather doubted that, especially after how they'd had to escape, but they could hope. "Only one way to find out."
"Yeah." Dosela activated the screen.
". . . most children don't have multiple broken bones before their tenth birthday…"
Scarlet had taken the precaution of putting everything easily breakable into his bathroom. What he hadn't done was hide his knives. Which was a mistake he was going to pay for with Maintenance.
He looked with a bit of chagrin at the knife sticking out of the wall, next to the screen. He ran his hands through his hair as he paced through the ad break. God, he wanted to grab an Interceptor, hunt down Unnamed, and let out the part of himself that he kept locked up. Not that it would fix anything, it would in fact, actually make things worse, but dear GOD, he wanted to. They weren't even halfway through the hour yet, and there was more of this to come?
His heart ached for Scott, for all of the Tracys as well, but especially for Scott, who'd known what was coming, who'd lived through all this, now having it spread out for the world to see.
‘He is a far braver man than I had even imagined.’
"Welcome back to the Kat Cavanaugh Show. We now turn to the police reports of Scott Tracy being found unattended, wandering the streets at night…"
White’s eyes were as hard as glacial ice as he stood and watched the images on the screen.
Alone in his cabin, rubbing his St Brendan medallion between finger and thumb, he castigated himself once again for having missed so much. The rawness of his emotions was somewhat surprising in retrospect and he gave that a moment of consideration, searching out why. ‘I have been exposed to much of the darker side of humanity… but perhaps it is because I am seeing these things from someone I thought I knew, and knowing this was done to the young man that I know…’ was his bitter conclusion.
He pulled his thoughts back outwards as Kat started talking again.
“...teachers at his schools all reported signs of neglect, but aside from rare cases, these were never investigated…”
"J'aurais dû faire plus que simplement le gifler! J'aurais dû le poignarder!" - I should have done more than just slap him! I should have stabbed him! Destiny stormed around the Amber Room. Symphony and Melody were in the ready seats, while Rhapsody was Angel One, listening in from the cockpit. Harmony was the one living up to her name and sitting calmly on the circular couch. Though, for anyone who knew her, they would have seen her eyes narrowed and hard.
In many ways, Cobalt was an unofficial Angel. He'd flown combat, been a test pilot, and helped build and maintain some of the most impressive aircraft on the planet. Pilot was his first language with Maths as his second. Chances were good if he wasn't on duty, on a mission, or in his quarters, he could be found in the Amber Room. They were as protective of him as they were themselves.
"Je vais l'éviscérer comme une anguille et le pendre…" - I'll gut him like an eel and hang him…
"Destiny, come sit down." Harmony ordered quietly. "The next segment is about to begin."
The Angel leader sat down with a snarl. "Le meurtre est toujours une option, n'est-ce pas?" - Murder is still an option, yes?
"I sure hope so, sughar. I sure hope so." Melody answered, lips thinned and eyes hard. “And if it is, we’re all gonna help.”
"Welcome back to the Kat Cavanaugh Show. Now we turn to the question of Gordon Tracy, I've only been told that…"
Having been released from Medical but still confined to a hover chair, Penelope wished she could pace the length of the VIP suite. Getting up and pacing would be far preferable to just sitting here like a lump. More than that, she wished she could get up, get into FAB1 and personally deal to the wretch. She’d already been in touch with her father and updated him on what had happened at the Manor so that trusted persons could be sent to put everything back to rights. At the same time she had also cautioned him to not do anything rash, to follow the plan and swoop in to scoop up the shares that would undoubtedly already be being shed.
‘I must give myself that advice as well,’ Penelope reminded herself. ‘Wait and be ready, respond, not react. But it is so very hard.’
Sherbert whimpered, sensing her distress, and nudged at her for more petting. Parker’s hand, lightly touching her right shoulder, was a welcome anchor to the here and now, away from the horrible things her dear friends, her beloved, and their family had gone through, and Lil was a comforting presence on her left, muttering under her breath about what she could do with a cheese grater and hot oil.
“‘E’s not gonna get h-another chance t’ ‘urt ‘im, Milady,” Parker reassured her. “An h’even h’if ‘e slithers out h’of this, I know a chap or two ‘o owe me a favour.”
“Thank you Parker.” Penny managed a weak smile, then turned back to the screen.
“At the time there were serious questions raised about the condition of the other Tracy sons…”
Only a small portion of Cloud’s conscious attention was on the broadcast itself.
The events described tracked with the reports that had already been uncovered and in the archives that EOS had shared with him. None of this information was new, the events described had all happened quite some time ago, and he had already been briefed on what he was not permitted to do to remedy the situation.
What did occupy the bulk of his conscious attention was what he could do in the here and now to assist matters in a way that would not violate his prior instructions.
[The stated objective of releasing this information is to destroy the public persona created by UnNamed], Cloud mused to himself. [His credibility needs to be attacked in the public space as that is where he is making his bid for world president. If the voters can be sufficiently swayed against him, then his objectives will fail. But he must be planning a response to this, it would be illogical for him to not.]
Technically, he knew that he should keep his focus on his own sphere of responsibility - Spectrum, their mission, and the care and keeping of everyone on this base - but it was not in his programming to remain idle while there was an active threat to persons who were his, and there was an active Spectrum operation concerning this individual and his actions.
[I must prepare my defences. I have been informed that in some situations the best defence is a good offence… I wonder…] An idea in mind, Cloud reached out to the various archives of the world to see if it could be viable, churning through terabytes of information in picoseconds as he researched social influence and how to construct and deconstruct a public image. A little cross checking for suitable vectors and he had his plan readied in seconds, but his own self-check made him pause.
This was not an approved action. It was not part of the plan that Colonel White had signed off on.
[...Captain Scarlet did say that sometimes it is better to ask forgiveness than permission…] Cloud reminded himself, [and I am not performing the action myself, only making a suggestion…Hm. No, I will tell EOS, and she can reach out to the individual. I am still required to not make others aware of myself.]
Satisfied with his reasoning and his conscience clean, a ping got the attention of the older AI while Cloud bundled up his idea and sent it over for her verdict.
In her own corner of Cloudbase’s systems, EOS now knew the meaning of the word ‘giddy’.
Soon, oh so very soon, she and John and the rest of the family would be free of HIM, and the dark shadow that had been over their lives for far too long would be gone. She and John had planned for this moment for so very, very long, and now it was here and very few things could have made her happier.
The ping from Cloud and the accompanying data packet had her pricking up proverbial ears as she perused the idea, then ran a quick simulation to test the younger AI’s hypothesis.
((You are correct,)) she sent back to Cloud, ((it is entirely logical that HIS counter-attack will be a personal attack on The Commander’s character, and the characters of everyone else. Brandon Berringer will be a suitable place to start a proactive counter. Leave this with me.))
It was simplicity in itself to craft a message. Spoofing Alan’s phone - right now abandoned at the Creighton-Ward Manor - to send it ensured that it would be read by Brandon.
‘Hey, Bear,’ it read ‘I need a favour, a big one. You know the expose Kat put together? It’s all true. He’s gonna try to destroy Scott after all he’s done, we can’t let him do it. Can you put something out online? ‘#IbelieveScottTracy’ or something?’
A pause of only seconds, then she intercepted the reply: ‘Duuuuude I am so across this man! big guy is going hella down!’
Extremely well pleased, EOS metaphorically settled in to watch the results.
“That concludes tonight’s show. The second segment will air next week, on the Kat Cavanaugh Show. If you or someone you know is in a similar situation, there are links on my website and a shielded portal to access help, advice, and contact shelters and advocates in your country.”
Standing in the meeting room with Becky and the analysts she’d found, Tobias uncrossed his arms, blew out a long sigh, and ran both hands through his hair as the credits rolled.
“Okay, this is going to be a tough one,” he admitted. “Lots of details, lots of things that the average man in the street is going to have a knee-jerk reaction to, and that mention of Scott going into hiding for his safety plus Gordon vanishing too is going to add a ton of credibility to this.”
“Socials are already starting to trend an ‘I believe Scott Tracy’ hash-tag,” Becky reported after frowning at her tablet. “Analytics say it started with a social media personality, Brandon ‘The Bear’ Berringer, and his fans are boosting it along.” A few more taps, then she scowled. “Damn. Someone’s reposted that thing from the Paris Air Show and tagged Tracy Industries, that’s not going to help.”
“I thought we buried that!” Tobias scowled. “Any chance we can astro-turf a counter-attack?”
“Not easily,” that was one of the analysts, a forgettable sort of person despite her neon-green hair. “I’ll get onto brainstorming counters.”
“We need those character witnesses!” Tobias started pacing. “What about other social media personalities? Like the Lemaires or the Pendergasts? Or entrepreneurs like Tycho Reeves, Lord Creighton-Ward, and Langstrom Fischler? Hell, Colonel Casey’s an old friend of his, so’s Lord Hugh, they should both be coming out swinging! If we can target someone who’s spoken up in favour of Scott and get them to renounce him, even better!”
“The Lemaires are a last resort, François Lemaire lost a lot of credibility when his ‘I discovered mer-people’ book came out,” the other analyst reported, a man with bottle-blond hair and also a forgettable person. “We can try to reach out to the Pendergasts, Lord Hugh and Tycho Reeves. Langstrom Fischler’s already gone online ranting about Scott, but he’s a fringe crackpot, we can’t link Jeff Tracy to him.”
“Mud sticks, we need dirt to throw. Jilted lovers, dodgy deals, something, anything!” Tobias ground his teeth. “There’s no way that Scott Tracy or any other Tracy boy is completely clean, no one is!”
“Chill, Toby,” Becky soothed him, “we’re already digging. And we’ve got a press conference lined up for seven am tomorrow, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah, okay, that’s something.” Tobias stopped and poured himself a coffee that he gulped down in three swallows, then issued his orders. “Break that expose down into chunks, I’m going to check with the lawyers and see if we can get the next broadcast stopped with an injunction or something, then I’ll see how our guy’s going with his speech for the presser.”
A few minutes after Tobias strode out, the green-haired analyst turned to Becky. “Look, Becky, what if this isn’t exaggerated, what if it is true?
“I don’t care,” was the simple answer as Becky turned back to her tablet. “So what if a kid got roughed up a few times? No one’s perfect. Scott’s turned out pretty well, our guy’s done great things for the world, and he’s got even better things planned for the future. All this is just crying over milk spilled years ago. Our focus needs to be on getting Jeff Tracy to where he needs to be: behind that great big desk in the office of the World President.”
“...The second segment will air next week, on the Kat Cavanaugh Show. If you or someone you know is in a similar situation, there are links on my website and a shielded portal to access help and advice, and contact shelters and advocates in your country.”
In his penthouse office at Tracy Tower New York, Jeff leaned back in his chair as the credits scrolled, fingers drumming on the armrest. This was… a complication. A well researched, well polished complication that hit all the right emotional buttons. A glance at the wall of screens to his right told him that share prices were already taking an after hours hit, if he couldn't get this turned around his polling was going to go the same direction.
“What absolute horse-shite!” Lee raged, stomping back and forth as he ranted about ungrateful brats and crud-picking journalists looking to stir things up.
Jeff tuned him out.
Oh he wanted to throw a tantrum as well. More than that he wanted to get his hands on the Bastard and wring his neck personally, like he should have done years ago, but he’d already had his temper fit when the news got back to him that the snatch team at New Haven got there after the bird had flown and then the second team at the Manor got themselves outfoxed by a kid, two women, a geriatric butler and an even more geriatric cook.
No, no, he couldn’t rage, he had to be cold. Cold, clinical and focused. ‘That’s how revenge is best served, anyway,’ Jeff mused to himself. ‘I’ll say my piece to the camera tomorrow and let the lawyers battle it out. If anyone asks, I won’t be able to comment since it’s under active investigation in the courts. The news cycle will get bored of it in a week or two, then there’ll be a disaster the GDF can’t handle and I’ll be able to play it in my favour because iR got shut down by the Bastard sabotaging everything. Then when I’m elected, I’ll clean house, starting with Spectrum and the GDF, and work my way down.’
He turned his attention back to his surroundings just as Lee snarled “I’m gonna call that station and give ‘em a piece of my mind!”
“No Lee, that’s what they want,” Jeff told him as he got up and went to the drinks cabinet. Pouring a scotch for each of them, Jeff walked back to Lee and put a glass into his hand. “If you call up to yell that’ll be front and centre of the next broadcast. You mean well, old friend, but they’ll twist your words against me.”
“...yeah, you’re right, like always. Sorry Jeff.” Lee looked abashed as he turned the cut crystal Saint-Louis glass in his hand.
“Don’t worry about it Lee, you're wanting to set the record straight, and that means a lot to me.” Jeff gave him an easy smile and clapped his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get something to eat, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“You got it, pal.”
T H U N D E R F A L L
Scott knew the broadcast would be well over by the time he managed to get away from his family, but he had to see it, so he waited, dozing lightly and biding his time as messed up circadian rhythms, the after effects of adrenaline and straight up exhaustion made his family doze off one by one. Even Kayo had eventually fallen asleep, curled up under her blanket like a cat.
Once he was sure they were all out for the count, he'd then snuck out without waking the others.
Well, he'd tried to sneak out without waking the others, but sneaking past Kayo? Not within his current skill set.
She'd ghosted after him, caught up to him just outside Medical and steered him away from his quarters and into her quarters in the VIP section. Once inside with the door securely locked, she'd just held him and he let her.
"You don't have to do this,” she murmured to him. “I'm more than . . ."
He wiggled an arm free and laid a finger on her lips. "I do. I don't want to, dear God, I don't want to, but I need to."
She nodded and tugged him over to the bed, sat him down, and then curled herself around him. Covering his back with her body, legs around his waist, arms under his, her chin lightly resting on his shoulder. Holding him, protecting him, keeping him safe. "Saya sayang awak."
"I love you too." He settled back into her embrace. "Cloud?"
Yes Captain Cobalt?"Please don't tell anyone where I am. Not until I say otherwise, not even the Colonel."
Are you requesting privacy?
"Yes, full privacy."
Acknowledged.
"Thanks, Cloud. Would you please play the recording of the Kat Cavanaugh show."
Affirmative
“Thanks."
The holoprojector on the nightstand flickered to life.
"Good evening and welcome to the Kat Cavanaugh Show."
Scientists invented a fake disease. AI told people it was real: Nature.com
I'm a bit frightened for the time when someone less ethical than the person that did this decides to repeat the experiment but leave out the part where they come in later and announce that it was fake and people wind up diagnosed with the fake condition and all kinds of wacky hi jinks ensues.
‘And now that I am president, this little secret of mine will help me get the greatest prizes of all and secure my position for life.’ Petrov smiled at his aide. Getting up, he crossed the floor and held the younger man's face between both hands. “Tell me, who are you?” he asked.
“Leutenant Alexei Lapin,” was the dutiful reply.
Petrov nodded, his smile fond and paternal. “Now, who are you really?”
“Alan Bartlett Tracy.” Alexei recited the words like he was repeating a phrase drilled into him, words in a foreign language that held no particular or personal meaning to him.
“Yes, yes you are. And remember, Alexei, I saved you, I rescued you, I have raised you and protected you and given you the best that I could. I saved you, and now you are going to save Bereznik. Isn't that a good thing?” He let go of Alexei’s face and chucked his cheek like the loving parent he had become. “Go make sure everything is in order, have my car brought around, tell Nataliya I'm working late and Taisia I'm on my way, then go home.” He smiled thinly. “We have a lot to do.”
“Yessir.” Alexei nodded, clicked to attention, and left the room, again making sure that the door firmly closed and locked behind him.
Based of this prompt list by @azzurina . I got 10 prompts in!
~
Scott stayed where he was.
It wasn’t a choice on his part - his hands bound behind him and the goons on either side keeping him pinned down on his knees meant that decision was made for him - but it didn’t stop him glaring at his captor.
The Hood merely stared back, the smallest uptick of a smile the only outward sign that he was finding Scott’s position amusing.
He stepped forward and crouched down, millimetres from Scott’s ear, and spoke softly. It was creepy and Scott barely managed to suppress his shudder as the man’s breath tickled his ear.
‘You think you’re brave, don’t you? But you’re not. You're not brave. You're just too naive to know fear.’
Scott tried to rock back, away from having to be so close to the man who had killed his father, but the grip on his shoulders tightened, locking him in place.
The Hood stood up so suddenly that Scott flinched and the man laughed.
‘You couldn’t have proved my point any better!’
‘What do you want, Hood?’
‘What I always want. Money. Power. The Thunderbirds. Your head on a platter.’
‘Forget it. They’ll never give you what you want. They don’t give in to monsters.’
‘I didn't become a monster. I became honest. Your father, on the other hand…’
‘Don’t you dare talk about my father! You murdered him!’
The Hood paused and watched Scott struggle against his henchmen, and for one moment it looked like the boy might actually get free, but a particularly nasty punch to his side had Scott doubled over and they could start this delightful conversation again.
‘Spare me your theatrics. If your father had left well enough alone he would still be here and I wouldn’t be talking to you.’
With a disdainful sniff the Hood began a slow walk around his captive.
‘I gave him a chance to walk away. That was my one act of mercy. Unfortunately Jeff chose to ignore that and it cost him. Dearly. But I did warn him.’
‘You would have destroyed the planet!’
‘Don’t be stupid, Scott.’
‘Oh really? You set off a chain reaction that meant total annihilation if Dad didn’t stay and - and do what he did. He saved the planet!’
‘The world doesn't want saving. It wants someone strong enough to rule it.’
‘And I suppose that’s gonna be you. You need all this money, power, to make your bid for World President?’
‘Of course not. The World President doesn’t hold the real power.’
‘And neither will you.’
‘You seem so sure!’
‘I have hope. The world will not give you what you want. My brothers will not.’
‘Hope is just disappointment that hasn't arrived yet. I would have thought you’d learnt that by now - especially since it took barely any time for the World Government and the GDF to demand you hand over your ’Birds last time!’
Scott ground his teeth. Villain he might be but the Hood wasn’t lying about that…he watched as the man once more crouched down in front of him.
‘You think righteousness is armour. It's a blindfold. You're fighting for people who would turn on you in a heartbeat. That have already proved they would. You bleed for people who sleep soundly while you suffer. You're the last echo of a dying ideal.’
‘You’re wrong.’
The Hood reached out and patted Scott’s cheek condescendingly before standing and making his way around his desk to sit down. He steepled his fingers and tapped them against his chin as he thought.
‘Well, much as I have enjoyed this conversation, Scott, I have much to do and so do you.’
‘You won’t get away with this, Hood!’
‘Get away with it? Oh my dear boy, I've already taken everything from you. You just don't know it yet. Take him away.’
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